Author's Note: Guess this is going to be a series of drabbles. Because⦠reasons.
Word Count: 100
An auburn field scented of sweet-smelling posies flowing across his pillow.
A voice like a soothing song from his childhood. Melodic. Cheerful. Calming.
Hands cool but sure and delightfully familiar with his body. Caressing. Rousing.
Soft lips.
And eyes... The eyes were all wrong. Filmy. Blank. Staring.
Dead.
Even in his dreams when she wasn't lying lifeless in a pool of her own blood, her eyes were those corpse eyes. Always staring at nothing. Yet somehow accusing him. Blame he fully deserved. He'd failed her. And she'd rightfully haunt him forever.
"Truthfully, I haven't been sleepin' much at all, doc."
A/N: I honestly don't know what to make of how the canon has LaSalle 'grieving'... Will it affect his work? When will Pride have a talk with him? What would it take for him to seek professional help? Thoughts? Opinions?
